


Es Ist Ein Wunderschönes Leben

by Vexie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, It's A Wonderful Life fic, lost family, minor crossover, vaguely festive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexie/pseuds/Vexie
Summary: “This is the Temporal Chalice,” the girl says, placing the chalice on the table. “If you claim it, you can fix what you did.”Caleb’s heart stops.“What?” His voice is still a whisper. “With that…I can change…”“You can change one moment of your choosing. You can rewrite time and none of that will ever have happened. You can save your parents’ lives and save yourself all the pain it caused,” the girl says. “What will you choose?”Caleb gets the chance to fix everything he did. After all, the Mighty Nein are better off without him, right?





	Es Ist Ein Wunderschönes Leben

 

               Outside the windows of the warm, cozy inn, a blizzard howls. Inside, the Mighty Nein recover from their latest scrap. It was your basic mission—yet another mine needed some monsters cleared out. This one included a nasty cave troll and several greedy drow.

               All in all, it was an easy day’s work for the Nein, all things considered. Well, for the most part. If Nott hadn’t missed that trap and Beau hadn’t gotten in a fight with the guy they were doing the job for afterward, it definitely would have helped. But they walked away in one piece and a bit richer, so that’s something. They take their victories where they can.

               They’ve set up base near the large fireplace. Jester and Caduceus are patching up those who need it. Caleb had his turn first, now the clerics are fussing over Beau, who is proudly showing off her bruised ribs to Yasha.

               “Check it out! Ah, man, you can see all of that guy’s fingers in this one!” Beau crows, tossing her head back with a twisted yet triumphant grin.

               Yasha smiles and shakes her head.

               “Please sit still, Miss Beauregard,” Caduceus says, frowning. “If something’s broken, I’d rather not heal it to something else by mistake.”

               “Sorry,” Beau rolls her eyes.

               Fjord shakes his head, then looks at Caleb.

               “How’re you feelin’?” he asks. “You up to identify some of the loot?”

               “I am always up for identifying loot,” Caleb says, loosening his book from his side.

               There’s a momentary scuffle as the party rummages through their pouches, pockets, and bags for the items they picked up from the mine shaft they’d just cleared out.  Caleb sets up shop at a table in the corner, out of the way. Jewelry, a few weapons, and a few other random objects are piled in front of him.

               “Danke. Now, go on. Let me work,” Caleb says, gesturing for the eager eyes of his comrades to move along. “I will bring you your treasures when I am finished.”

               Caleb casts his ritual over the items. Not a bad haul. Most of the rings contain minor one-off spells of one kind or another. One necklace has a dusty old curse on it. It may or may not work at this point, but Caleb sets it to the side for discarding just to be safe. The weapons are just weapons—no surprise there.

               A gleam of power catches Caleb’s eye—big power. It’s coming from a golden chalice. Caleb picks it up and turns it over in his hands. It’s a simple gold cup. There are some jewels embedded in it, but nothing special.  He reaches for it with his magic. Instead of the understanding that usually fills in his mind like words on a page, he hears soft laughter. A woman’s laughter—no, a girl?

               _“Caleb…”_ a voice calls. It’s not a sound, per-say. It’s more like the odd half-voice of a message spell, whispering _inside_ his ear.

               Caleb nearly drops the chalice. His lips part, but he pauses, looking around the room.

               _“Caleb!”_ the voice calls again, more insisting this time. It’s definitely coming from the cup.

               “I don’t like this,” Caleb says to himself. He sets the cup down and gets to his feet.

               _“You can’t ignore me, Caleb. Just listen to me for a moment,”_ the voice says again.

               Caleb looks at the chalice, then over at the Nein. He takes a deep breath, his eyes starting to travel back to the chalice, but then he stops, his heart leaping into his throat. The hair raises on the back of his neck and his arms. He almost missed it. But upon looking again, there’s no doubt about it. His friends are not moving at all. Jester is paused wrapping a bandage around Fjord’s arm. Beau is still pulling her shirt down, her face frozen mid-sentence. Nott’s tankard is halfway to her lips. Caduceus’s perceptive eyes are on Caleb but they look like glass—unseeing. Caleb waves at him, but receives no response from the firbolg. The fireplace behind them isn’t moving either. The flames could be carved amber. Everything is frozen. Everything except Caleb.

               Goosebumps rising on his flesh, Caleb turns back to the table. The chalice is still sitting where he left it. Sitting in the seat he was previously occupying is a girl in a yellow dress. She smiles.

               “Hello Caleb,” the girl says.

               “What is this? What have you done?” Caleb demands. Without thinking about it, he slides into a defensive stance, the air around his hands growing hot.

               “Nothing. I’ve just stopped time for a moment so we could talk, just you and me,” the girl says. “When it’s over, time will pick up again. Your friends over there will have no idea that anything happened at all.”

               Caleb takes a deep breath. What kind of being is this, that can stop time at her whim?

               “You said you wanted to talk to me. Who are you?” he asks.

               “This girl is just a figure I borrowed. I am the Temporal Chalice. I’ve seen your heart, and I’ve come to make you an offer, Caleb Widogast,” the girl says.

               “An offer?” Caleb narrows his eyes.

               “Are you willing to listen?” the girl asks in return. “If you do, I will let everyone go, regardless of whether or not you accept what I can do for you. All I want is for you to listen to my offer.”

               Caleb hesitates. His mind races with everything he knows about magical items. Most of the ones that are this…autonomous contain trapped demons or spirits of some sort. Making a deal with something like this could be a death sentence.

               “If I refuse?” he says, keeping his hands ready to destroy the chalice if need be.

               “ _Are_ you refusing? I think you of all people will be very interested in what I have to say,” the girl’s smile is old, even as she swings her feet, legs too short to reach the floor from the chair.

               “Why me?” Caleb asks.

               “Because the one thing you’re most interested in is the one thing I’m really good at. Time,” the girl says.

               “Time?” Caleb repeats.

               “Yes. Can I show you?” The girl asks.

               Caleb sighs, then nods his assent. Trap or no, at least listening for a few minutes will buy him time to think of a way out of this. The girl claps her hands enthusiastically.

               “Let’s begin, then!”

               She leans across the table to pick up the chalice, then comes to stand next to Caleb. She slips her small hand into his. Caleb moves to pull away, but before he can, the room begins to blur and fade and he decides that letting go is not a great plan.

               Caleb sees himself fighting alongside the Nein in the mineshaft. Suddenly, they’re moving backward so quickly he can barely see their movements. They’re quickly retreating back south. The days get greener. Fights come and go in the blink of an eye. They slow for a moment, just as Caleb flips a switch that sucks them all into another dimension. Then time is reversing again. They’re back on the Squall Eater. Avantika is alive and well, staring them down. Caleb watches himself cast his wall of fire, protecting his friends from her god-given powers. Minutes later, he sees himself zipping up toward the Plank King when he takes an arrow to the back, knocking him face-first into the road, and then he sees himself healed by Fjord, his first action to set fire to the boat, killing so many people on it.

               “Ooh, ouch,” the girl says, wincing.

               Time reverses faster again, zipping backward through their adventures at sea, through the Menagerie Coast. Here and there, the girl slows the time to supposedly show him something. They see Caleb take hits and deal them. They see Nott’s look of dismay when she realizes Caleb enchanted her. They see all their battles fought and decisions made.

               When the girl slows over the first battle with Lorenzo, watching solemnly as Mollymauk rushes up to the cart, Caleb whirls to face her.

               “What are you trying to show me here?” he demands through clenched teeth. “You’re showing me the things I did wrong? The moments I should have done better? Do you think I don’t see these mistakes every time I close my own eyes?”

               “Be patient. I’m reviewing your life for me, not for you,” the girl says, not taking her eyes off the scene.

               Caleb keeps his face turned away, resisting the urge to yell at himself to move forward, to do _something_ to save Molly. To do anything other than hang back like the coward he is.

               “This was never a good plan. I should have never let us try,” he murmurs to himself.

               “No, I don’t think that’s it. We need to go further back,” The girl replies. Caleb looks down at her in surprise.

               “Shh,” the girl says, but there’s a ghost of a smile on her lips.

               Caleb looks up. They’re speeding back—there’s a brief pause when Caleb first meets the Mighty Nein, and another when he meets Nott. They fly back through Caleb’s years alone. There’s a blurry, warbly period. The girl frowns and glances up at him. Caleb doesn’t elaborate. He shivers. If these are his memories, this is the time he spent out of his mind. With a jolt, he realizes what they’ll come to next.

               “Don’t—” he barely chokes out, but the images are already slowing down. He wants to close his eyes, but he can’t.

               _“I can’t believe it,” Astrid shakes her head, her arms wrapped around her knees._

_“No, neither can I. But…I know what I heard,” Eodwulf says. His face is tight. “You know what we have to do.”_

_“Archmage always said it would be hard, facing the rebellion. That we’d have to hurt people we loved. But I never really thought it would be our own families,” Caleb says, rubbing at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands._

_“What’s more important, Caleb? Protecting traitors because of our own ties would be selfish. This is for the greater good—for the good of the Empire,” Eodwulf says. He runs both hands through his hair. “I don’t like it either but—you heard them. We all did.”_

_“Yes, I know. I’m not saying we should be lenient. I’ve already had more than enough of dealing with revolutionaries,” Caleb says with distaste. “I know what this means.”_

_“Tonight, then,” Eodwulf says. “No looking back.”_

_Astrid and Caleb both nod, faces set._

_The last dinner is a good one. Caleb will never forget the taste of his mother’s sauerbraten. It had always been one of his favorites, but anything would have probably tasted amazing that night._

_“Are you sure you have to leave so soon? You’ve only just gotten here,” Caleb’s mother says._

_“Yes, I’m afraid I have much to do before graduation,” Caleb says. “I still have final examinations to complete.”_

_He doesn’t want to meet her eyes, but he can’t help but stare into her face, drinking in her dark curls, her blue eyes, her laugh lines and crow’s feet, just barely showing._

_“I’m not surprised—it sounds like you’re graduating with high honors from the Archmage Ikithon himself. You’ve always been such a hard worker—you know how proud of you we are, don’t you Caleb?” Caleb’s father says, beaming. Caleb turns his eyes to his father’s sun-worn, freckled face. His father, who worked so hard for his family. Misguided peasants were among the most dangerous traitors, the Archmage said. They thought they had something to gain and nothing to lose by rebelling. Their desire to make things “better” in any way they could made them reckless. His father would do anything for his family. But this…_

_“Yes,” Caleb says quietly, looking away from his parents and down at his plate._

_The conversation turns to day-to-day business between his mother and father. Conversations he’s heard his entire life seem brand new to him. Caleb has no way of knowing how often he’ll think of the sound of his father discussing his patrolling schedule as his mother mentions the number of mending and alteration jobs she has for the week. He hasn’t an inkling of how much he’ll treasure his mother’s story of how Frau Olga’s daughter’s wedding dress was three sizes too large because the woman commissioned it using her own measurements, believing herself to be as thin as her daughter. His father’s deep chuckle and his mother’s free laugh echo in his dreams._

_“Caleb. It’s time,” Eodwulf’s voice whispers in Caleb’s ear._

_“I’m afraid Astrid and Eodwulf are outside,” Caleb says, standing. His heart is hammering in his chest. He’s done this a thousand times, he reminds himself. His closeness to the rebels should make no difference._

“They will want to use you for their own purposes. They know how powerful you are,” _Archmage had said before Caleb returned home. His own parents may try to turn him against the Empire—to betray everything he stands for. They’re too dangerous._

_“Already? Oh, do come back as soon as you can, Caleb,” his mother stands as well, coming around the table to embrace him. He puts his arms around her and holds her tight._

_“I will,” he promises. “I love you, Mother.”_

_“And I love you, my clever boy,” His mother kisses his cheek. He feels her smile._

_Caleb’s father is standing. He holds out his hand, but Caleb embraces his father as well. The man tenses for a moment, then returns the embrace._

_“We love you very much, son,” his father says._

_“I love you, too,” Caleb says._

_Caleb gathers his things and walks outside. He does not look back._

_“Are you ready?” Eodwulf says, when Caleb joins them atop the hill they’d agreed upon._

_“Yes,” Caleb says. He studies his friends’ faces. There’s no sign of remorse, though Astrid looks a little pale, and Eodwulf’s eyes have a new hollowness to them. But their faces are set and determined. Somehow, it makes Caleb stronger._

_“They’ll clean up from supper, then go to bed,” Caleb says._

_“Let’s get it done,” Astrid says._

_Together, the three of them return to Caleb’s home. They find his father’s cart out in the shed and slowly, carefully push it in front of the front door, taking care not to make noise as they move. They barricade the back door as well._

_“Your turn,” Eodwulf whispers._

_Caleb takes a deep breath. Just like he’s done a million times before, he thinks to himself. His fingers heat and crackle. His stomach twists, his heart almost in his mouth. With a loud cry, Caleb casts fireball before he can lose his nerve._

_As if in slow motion, the flaming orb flies toward the house Caleb was born in. It hits just above the front door, the fire flattening and spreading to engulf the upper floor—where Caleb’s bedroom had been. Caleb shoots more flames to catch the ground floor, too impatient to let the fire spread naturally. He just wants it to be done._

_He watches the flames, a horrible dread crawling across his chest. Inhuman screams are coming from the house now—screams that have hints of his parents’ voices in them._

_“Caleb. It’s done. It’s time to leave,” Astrid says softly, touching his arm._

_“No looking back,” Eodwulf adds once again, citing the phrase they repeated to each other over and over throughout their schooling, when any of them faltered._

_Caleb stares at them but doesn’t recognize them. Part of him is screaming, screaming with the people inside the house he was born in. With his_ family _. God, his family. His parents. His mother, who raised him on fairytales told as she worked on the mending and sewing for the people in town, who taught him to read and write in a hand that would never be as beautiful and graceful as hers. His father, whose red hair he’d inherited. The man who had taught him how to survive in the woods and who had been so proud when his young boy had been chosen to serve the Empire, just as he served for some many years, though in a different way._

_Just as he served._

_Caleb’s mind tears at itself, love colliding with the knowledge of their betrayal of the Empire. His father’s Crownsguard uniform hangs on their bedroom door, cleaned and polished with care clashing against his hushed voice down in the kitchen. Caleb’s memory doubles itself, hearing spite and confidence in the crown spoken from his parents’ lips at the same time. He hears loud cracks, like ice breaking up in the spring thaw. No, no, something’s not right. How could this happen? It must be a mistake. This is_ wrong _. What has he done? Gods above and below, what has he done?_

_A new screaming resonates deep in his chest. He realizes it’s coming from him. He’s running forward, tearing himself from Astrid’s grasp. He’s screaming but there are no words, just anguish and fear. What has he done? He can still save them. He has to undo this. He reaches out and grabs the cart to move it from the door, reaching through the flames. He’s dimly aware of his hands cracking and burning. Tears stream down his face that have nothing to do with the pain of the flames or the billowing smoke._

_Eodwulf, a good few inches and several pounds of muscle heavier than Caleb grabs him from behind, wrenching him away from the burning cart. He pulls him back up the hill and throws him on the ground. Astrid runs forward to put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. Eodwulf brushes ash and embers from his coat and out of his light blond hair._

_“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps. “We’ve done what we came to do. It’s over.”_

_Caleb doesn’t respond. He can’t. His broken, burned hands are curled against his chest. The screaming inside the house has stopped, but the screaming in his mind grows in volume at this realization and continues on and on and on. His chest is a gaping hole, sucking everything inside of him deep into a black pit. He can barely breathe. He stares at Eodwulf without knowing him. He sees the boy’s lips moving, but can’t hear anything but flames and screaming._

The flames stop.

               Caleb is on his knees. Tears stream down his face. His breath comes in sharp jerks that feel like they’re tearing his chest to shreds.

               “I know,” he whispers in a wretched voice. “I know what I did. I was there. I did this. I know. Please stop showing me these things.”

               “That’s quite a decision you made,” the girl says. “This is the one, isn’t it?”

               The memories are flashing backward again. All those moments at Trent Ikithon’s estate. The years prior at Soltryce. His childhood zips by in an instant. Nothing else seems to catch the girl’s attention.

               The inn common room returns. The girl takes her place at the table. She gestures to the chair across from her.

               Caleb takes the chair numbly. He wipes his face and tries to force himself to breathe normally. His hands are shaking—when did they start doing that?

               “This is the Temporal Chalice,” the girl says, placing the chalice back onto the table. “If you claim it, you can fix what you did.”

               Caleb’s heart stops. His breath stops. He can do nothing but stare.

               “What?” His voice is still a whisper. “With that…I can change…”

               “You can change one moment of your choosing. You can rewrite time and none of that will ever have happened. You can save your parents’ lives and save yourself all the pain it caused,” the girl says. “What will you choose?”  

               Caleb stares at the chalice. He feels feverish. He’s been studying for so long, searching for so long. Every choice he’s made has been in this direction. The answer can’t be right in front of him. It can’t be this easy. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and tries to force his brain to use rational thought.

               “What…what do you want in return?” He asks weakly. “There must always be a price.”

               “Nothing,” The girl says, smiling. “The chalice _wants_ to be used, Caleb. It needs to be used…to be needed. By using it to change your past, you’re fulfilling its only desire.”

               “So that’s it? I can change whatever I want? There are no…prices to be paid? No catches?” Caleb says. “This is everything…to me…but I…there is always…something.”

               “There are only three rules. You cannot walk the same path you have walked now. You will never become part of the Mighty Nein. You must give up your place in this timeline forever. If you try to have the best of both worlds and go searching to recreate what you have now, the timeline will crumble and you will be lost to time. That brings me to the most important rule. _You_ must sustain the timeline you choose. You have to want the new timeline—the good and the bad—or it won’t hold up. One moment of true regret and it all falls down,” the girl says.

               “What will happen to my friends?” Caleb asks.

               “I don’t know,” the girl says. “Does it matter? They’re probably not a part of your new timeline. You’ll walk a new life, a better life.”

               “I…” Caleb looks down at his hands on the table. To change things so that his family was alive. So that he wasn’t a murderer. He closes his eyes and sees his mother’s smile, hears his father’s laugh. He would never meet the Nein, but that would be his loss, not theirs. To never be used by him? To never be charmed or manipulated? To never be harmed because of him? And all of those that he killed and those that the Nein killed on his behalf… This is what would be best for them all. Everyone wins.

               “I will claim it,” Caleb hears himself say. He opens his eyes and reaches out to grasp the chalice.

               The voice Caleb hears in his mind now is not the girl’s voice. The voice is different—a man’s voice. It sounds serious, though coming from a voice that isn’t serious often.

               “If you could change one moment of your life, what would you choose?” it asks.

               “I never want to become Trent Ikithon’s pupil. I want to decline his offer,” Caleb says. “I don’t want to become a battlemage for the Empire. I never want to become the man who did what I did. Let me choose a different path.”

               “Interesting. So be it,” the voice of the Chalice says. The room fades to milky white.

 

               Caleb sets the old, dusty chalice back on its shelf. He shakes his head. Why was he holding that old thing? He must have been lost in thought. He returns to his desk. What was he doing before that? Right, grading essays on the creation and uses of Leomund’s Tiny Hut. No wonder his mind wandered, he thinks as he starts reading through the essay on the top of his stack. Don’t they teach children to write properly anymore? What a mess. Fortunately, he is rescued by a knock at his office door.

               “Yes?” He calls.

               The door opens and a large blue firbolg walks inside, smiling widely.

               “Ah Pumat…#3 if I’m not mistaken?” Caleb says with a smile, standing.

               “You never are, Professor Widogast,” Pumat 3 says, shaking his head. “As usual. I brought the item you ordered.  A very pretty piece, if I do say so myself!” He holds out a narrow wooden box.

               “That was very quick! Thank you!” Caleb takes the box and opens it. A pair of delicate spectacles rimmed in simple silver sit nestled in the velvet interior. “These are to be a gift for my mother back in Blumenthal. She isn’t able to see in dim light as well as she used to. Hopefully the darkvision enchantment will help. Regardless of age, she’s still the best seamstress around.”

               “That’s real nice. We thank you for your patronage. Respectfully, you could have done this yourself,” Pumat 3 says, folding his hands in front of him.

               “The enchantment, yes, but your craftmanship is much prettier than mine,” Caleb says, giving an appreciative nod. He hands Pumat 3 a handful of gold.

               “Please give Prime my best,” Caleb says.

               “Absolutely. Just as soon as I finish making deliveries. ‘Tis the season, after all. Thank you for your business, Professor,” 3 says.

               “Thank you,” Caleb says. He smiles down at the box. Just in time. It’s been a while since he’s been home. He’s looking forward to spending some time back home for the Longest Night celebrations. He’s glad to have some free time after this semester.  

               Ah, yes. Grading. The dirty side of his position. For every gem of an essay that analyzes why the components react the way they do and theorizes on new uses or new possible ways to pre-concoct the tiny hut or utilize stand-in components, there are about ten that read along the lines of “Leomund’s Tiny Hut is a magical hut that is very tiny in size, developed by a wizard named Leomund. It is very useful in many ways.” Not for the first time, Caleb wishes he were the type of professor to stop reading after the first few lines, but he most certainly isn’t.

               Caleb has managed to power through a good portion of his stack when another knock sounds at his door. In stark contrast to Pumat 3’s booming, jovial knock, this one is timid and much lower on the large door.

               “Come in,” Caleb calls, stretching in his chair.

               There’s a few seconds of hesitation before the door slowly opens and one of his younger students edges into the room. Her dark, messy hair obscures part of her face. Her large brown eyes, usually eagerly trained on Caleb during class are cast to the floor. She hovers just inside the door, wringing her hands in front of her.

               “Leora? I thought you’d be gone for the holidays,” Caleb says.

               “I’m all packed,” Leora mumbles. “I just…” She trails off, her eyes focused intensely on the woven rug adorning Caleb’s office floor.

               “Is something wrong?” Caleb asks.

               Leora takes a deep breath and finally looks up. A fierce light shines in her small face.

               “I know I messed up during the practical,” she blurts out. “I failed. I can do better. I _know_ this spell. I practiced hard, but I just…Can I…can I try again?”

               Caleb sits back, considering.

               “You know, this usually isn’t my policy,” he says thoughtfully.

               “I know. And I respect that. But please, Professor. Even if it’s not for a grade, I just want to show you. I can do this,” Leora says.

               Caleb is silent for a few moments more, though his mind is already made up. Leora fidgets uneasily. He’s always liked her as a student. She’s eager to learn, and still in love with magic. So many students get jaded so quickly. The joy of casting wears off as soon as you have to write 500 words about the theory behind the spell you’re using. Besides, something about Leora’s timidness that quickly shifts to excited energy is endearing. He’s enjoyed watching the shy girl blossom and gain confidence since her enrollment.

               “Let me see,” Caleb says, prolonging the moment. He shuffles through papers he’s already graded until he finds Leora’s. “You did do quite well on the written portion of the exam. You understand how the hut is constructed and were even able to explain why the pearl is key and suggest a few items that may be used in place of a pearl, using good logic.”

               Leora’s face lights up with hope and a touch of relief.

               “Let me see you cast this spell,” Caleb says, giving her a nod.

               “Yes, sir!” Leora says.

               Caleb helps Leora clear space in the center of the room, then stands back as she begins the casting. A few days ago, her hands were shaking as she made the movements. Her concentration suffered under the eyes of all of her classmates and her professor. Now, she moves with confidence. As she finishes the spell, a shimmering emerald bubble appears in Caleb’s office. He hides a proud smile under the guise of thoughtful inspection.

               “Hmmm. It looks good. Let’s see how you did,” he says.

               Caleb forms a barrage of rubber balls and rain them down on the hut. They bounce off harmlessly. Not a single one finds a weak point to break through.

               “Good. May I come in?” he asks.

               “Yes, please!” Leora squeaks from inside.

               Caleb ducks into the hut. Leora is sitting cross-legged in the center, beaming under the glittering green light.

               “See? Just like you taught me, Professor!” Leora says proudly.

Caleb feels a twinge—he gets these every so often, like he’s seeing an old friend he’s missed dearly. He ignores this, as usual, and sits down across from Leora.

               “You did very well. I knew you could. You have a good understanding of magic! You need to learn to not let others bother you. As a mage, you will likely need to perform magic with plenty of people around—you won’t always have quiet or solitude to work in. You may even have to perform a spell like this if you are in danger,” Caleb says gently.

               “I understand,” Leora nods. “I’ll work on my stage fright next semester.”

               “Good. You know Koda, correct? She and a few others began a study group—you should join them,” Caleb suggests.

               Leora looks down.

               “I don’t think they like me very much,” she says.

               “Try it anyway. You never know what can happen,” Caleb says. “You’ll be surprised how much easier things are if you have a group of friends to work with.”

               “Okay. I’ll try it,” Leora says, though she still sounds doubtful.

               “Good. Now, get out of here. It’s winter break—go have some fun,” Caleb says.

               Leora stands and breaks the spell. The bubble disappears, the green lighting going with it. Caleb gets to his feet as well.

               “Thank you for giving me another chance, Professor Widogast,” Leora says, giving him a smile.

               “You did very well,” Caleb says again. “Don’t worry, you’ve passed my class.”

               Leora’s smile widens. She gives him a cheerful nod as she bounces out the door, completely changed from the downcast shadow that had sneaked in.

               Caleb closes the door behind her. He finishes making his way through the stack of essays. It’s easier, thinking of Leora’s smile. Even after the worst of essays, Caleb doesn’t regret choosing to work within the academy rather than out in the field. He’d had an opportunity to become a battle mage, once. It was a rare honor. Candidates were chosen by the Archmage himself. But Caleb had always known his heart was truly in teaching and studying magic. He would take a dusty library of books and artifacts over a dangerous dungeon or a battlefront any day.

               The light coming through Caleb’s windows begins to darken as he records the last grade in his book. His office door opens once more, this time without a knock. A silver-haired half-elf pokes her head inside.

               “Are you _still_ here, Caleb?” she teases.

               “Remind me again why we assign essays?” Caleb groans in response, massaging his head in an over-exaggerated motion.

                “Because mages are old codgers who enjoy torturing themselves and children,” the half-elf says.

               “You’d better not let the headmaster hear you saying that, Enith. You may be without a job,” Caleb says, collecting his things and retrieving his coat.

               “At least I’d never have to grade another terrible essay. One more ‘what I learned in your class is’ essay, and I may quit on my own!” Enith says with a grin. “You coming for a drink?”

               “Not tonight. I’m _tired_. I’m going home and sleeping until noon tomorrow,” Caleb says.

               Enith’s ears droop a fraction.

               “You’re so _boring_ ,” she complains.

               “I’ll make it up to you. Dinner tomorrow night?” Caleb suggests.

               “Deal. I’ll even wear a dress,” Enith says, her face brightening again.

               “I look forward to it,” Caleb says with feeling, putting on his coat and scarf.

               Caleb and Enith walk through the corridors of the Hall of Erudition. Most of the classrooms and offices are dark. Classes are out for the next few weeks for the various celebrations surrounding the Winter Solstice, though many of the instructors use this time to make headway on their personal projects or assignments from the state. Caleb has a few things of his own on the table, but a nice break and visit home are first on his list.

               The human and half-elf part ways on the Tri-Spire streets. Enith heads toward the Pen and the Pint—the popular pub where the academics and artists get together to drink and argue. Caleb turns toward home.

               Home for Caleb is a modest house on the edge of the Tri-Spire. It’s old and comfortable with dark wood floors, plush couches, and bookshelves in every room. Though his door and guest rooms are always open to friends and colleagues, Caleb lives peacefully alone…though there are wagers among the staff at the Hall how long Enith will let that status remain.

               The quiet envelops Caleb like a blanket as he prepares a simple but warm meal and takes it in the breakfast nook, a book propped on nothing in front of him, pages turning on their own as his eyes reach their end.

               Caleb is well within the tale of a castle enchanted to roam the hillsides of a provincial town when the room darkens without warning. Caleb looks up in time to see a doorway that is _black_. It’s the blackest black Caleb has ever seen, engulfing his enchanted light and the fireplace light. He leaps to his feet as three figures step through the doorway. One is an unimpressed elven man adorned in raven feathers. One is a dark skinned man in a well-tailored suit, hair elaborately braided. The third looks out of place with his slight companions—he is a large human man with auburn hair and beard. His face and arms are covered in scars. He wears a red jacket with a strange badge, the sleeves pushed up.

               “Caleb Widogast, I presume?” the man in raven feathers says.

               “Who are you? What do you want?” Caleb demands, standing at ready with a firebolt prepared.

               “The Temporal Chalice. Where is it?” the man demands.

               “The what?” Caleb frowns. The name is familiar but he pushes the thought away frantically, as if it’s dangerous to him.

               “Caleb, we know what you have done,” the well-dressed man says. “We’re here to set the timeline straight and take the Chalice. It should have never come here.”

               Caleb shakes his head, feeling the sharp point of fear at his spine. Unfamiliar thoughts race through his mind. Some strange part of him knows what they want. They’re here to take everything away from him. He can’t let them do that. This is _his_. He can’t give this up.

               “I won’t go back,” he says. A part of his mind is set like a wall against these strangers. The other part, the one that feels more like _him_ is asking frantic questions. Back to _what_? The only response is the sound of a roaring fire that feels him with dread.

               “This is wrong and you know it,” the raven-clad man snaps. “You’re messing with things far beyond you.”

               “Vax, hold on,” the scarred man says. “I know what this thing does to people. Just…let me talk to him, okay?”

               Vax rolls his eyes and walks away, inspecting the shelves on either side of the fireplace. The scarred man sighs.

               “Thank you,” he says pointedly to the raven-clad man. He turns to Caleb and his face somehow softens in a way that such a scarred face shouldn’t be able to. His hair is nearly the same shade of auburn as Caleb’s own, though his eyes are a deeper blue, leaning more toward cobalt than Caleb’s sky blue eyes.

               “My name is Magnus,” he says. “I’m from a different plane—a different planar field, actually. This is Kravitz—he serves the Raven Queen for my plane, and that’s Vax’ildan. He serves the Raven Queen of this plane. Your plane. That’s how we got here. Things get a little…fuzzy on the astral plane, so I could pass through and find you.”  

               “So you could find _me_?” Caleb shakes his head. “Three spectral forms come to visit…Why? Are you here to tell me the true meaning of the Longest Night?”

               “I—what? Are you talking about Candlenights?” Magnus blinks, then shrugs. “Either way, no. You changed your timeline. Your Raven Queen suddenly found her realm changed—people who had been there were gone, and new people appeared. Time was rewritten. Dual timelines were appearing in peoples’ lives. She sent Vax here to investigate, and that led him to us. Someone used a powerful magical item to change the course of history, and that person is you, Caleb.”

               “And this item is…” Caleb says, folding his arms.

               “The Temporal Chalice. One of seven Grand Relics. They were destroyed on my plane, but the nature of the Temporal Chalice… I guess…made it copy itself?” Magnus glances at Kravitz.

               “It would appear that way. The best guess we have is that at some point, either a user of the Chalice or the Chalice itself found a way to peel off one of its own alternate timelines and make its way here. And eventually, it made its way to you,” Kravitz says.

               “Anyway, I’m here to set the timeline right and take the Temporal Chalice home so we can destroy it. The Grand Relics are dangerous,” Magnus says. “They want to be wanted. In my plane, they caused huge wars and destroyed many lives.”  

               Caleb stares through this stranger, shaking his head slowly. Things click into place unbidden. The timeline…he sees it sometimes in dreams he’s always known aren’t really dreams. He sees fire and hears the screams of his family and wakes in a cold sweat. He feels the weight of blood on his hands. Many mornings, he wakes feeling hollow and alone until the reality of his life reminds him that _that_ world doesn’t exist. _Not anymore_. A connection forms—a connection he usually rejects.

               “No,” he says, his voice breaking unexpectedly. “I fixed things. Things are _better_ now. I can’t… _be_ that again. I can’t live that life, knowing that this one…”

               “Things are better? Because two old peasants are alive somewhere in the Zemnian Fields? What of the Mighty Nein, Widogast? What of their deeds? Were they all written for you to judge what would ultimately be better?” Vax turns back to him, raising both eyebrows. The name rings like clear crystal, the twinge of old, missing friends plucking at Caleb. But he shakes his head, more memories rushing to him.  

               “They’re better off without…the monster I was. In this world, I never became _that man._ If you know so much about me, you know I was using them for my own desires. Here…they’re free from me. They’re better off,” Caleb says.        

               “Are they truly, I wonder?” Kravitz tilts his head.

               Caleb glares at him.

               “Are you willing to put it to the test? Are you willing to see where things lie without you?” Vax asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

               “If we find them doing just fine having never known me, as I know they are, will you leave?” Caleb demands.

               Magnus opens his mouth, frowning.

               “Yes,” Kravitz and Vax say together.

               “Wh-“ Magnus starts, turning to look at them, alarm written across his face.

               “We’ll show you the Nein and the path you chose to erase,” Vax says. “If what you say is true, we’ll leave you alone in your _improved_ world.”

               “But if not, you’ll help us set the world back right and relinquish the Chalice to Magnus,” Kravitz continues.

               “Guys…” Magnus starts.

               “Very well,” Caleb interrupts.

               “Good,” Vax says, giving Magnus a pointed look.

               “Who would you like to see first?” Kravitz asks, beginning the motions to summon his dark doorway.

               “I don’t care,” Caleb says. _No one_ , he thinks. Already, he hears flames in his mind that used to follow him everywhere he went. Flames that have featured in his dreams less and less as years go by.

               “Very well. Nearest first,” Vax says. Kravitz nods and opens the Door. The two reapers and two humans walk through—Caleb with some hesitation. He finds himself in a much seedier part of Zadash—a place he only visits when he’s in need of certain hard-to-find spell components.

               “Do you recognize this place?” Vax asks.

               “Yes,” Caleb says. “Who are we—” but then he sees Beauregard exiting a pub he hasn’t thought about in what feels like a very long time. The Evening Nip. Caleb’s breath catches. She’s _real_. Somehow, these people have become characters to him, like someone in a book he read once. Just the players in his dreams. But Caleb pushes the shock away and inspects the tall woman. She looks good—strong. Her face is hard, with maybe a new scar here and there, but then, Beau was never a soft person.

               “She looks quite well to me,” he says, glancing at his companions.

               “Is she?” Kravitz asks. “Talk to her. Then decide.”

               “She won’t—all right, fine,” Caleb relents. He steps forward under the light of a lamp.

               “Beauregard—“ he begins. Quickly—quicker than he remembers, Beau’s head whips around, her eyes flashing in alarm. Before Caleb can say another word, Beau has him pinned to a wall with her staff, her dangerous fingers at his throat. He remembers her ki tricks belatedly and swallows hard.

               “Hey!” Magnus rushes forward.

               “Hey yourself, big guy. You want your buddy here to stop breathing? Keep moving forward,” Beau snaps, poising to strike Caleb.

               “Listen to her, Magnus,” Caleb chokes out. “Please.”

               Magnus stops, but his hands don’t leave their guarded position.

               “Now, who the hell are you two, and what do you want?” Beau demands, meeting Caleb’s eyes. “And you better tell the truth. You don’t want me to make you.” _Two_. Beauregard can’t see the representatives from the Raven Queen. Caleb files this information away.

               “No, I do not,” Caleb says with feeling. “My name is Caleb Widogast. I’m a—a friend.”

               “Yeah? Whose friend? Sure as hell not mine,” Beau smirks at him, tugging on his red and gold robe, marking him as a Professor and graduate of Soltryce. “I don’t make friends with nerds.”

               Caleb pauses. He takes a breath and the old words come to him.

               “Listen. I have no coin but I bring many gifts,” he says carefully, hoping the password is still relevant.

               “Uh, Caleb, we didn’t—” Magnus starts, but stops with a surprised _oh!_ As Beauregard releases Caleb from the wall, her smirk fading to a look of disgust.

               “So you’re his. Why were you waiting for me? Boss checking in?” she asks, face hard.

               “No, I just…wanted to see how you were doing,” Caleb says, rubbing his throat. “How things are going for you.”

               “Is this about the other night? I told him already, _his_ informants fucked up, not me. It’s not my fault the item was damaged. The house was supposed to be empty, and I was ambushed. I’m not happy about that either,” Beau crosses her arms, scowling. “Tell him to get better scouts.”

               “You’re working directly with the Gentleman now?” Caleb asks, frowning.

               “Uh…you know my name and you’re a friend of his. Are you trying to tell me you don’t recognize his best merc?” Beau tosses her head back. “Or is this another test? Does that idiot still question my loyalty? Who does he think I’m reporting back to?”

               Caleb shakes his head blankly. He tries to make this information add up. How did Beauregard end up here?

               “What about Fjord and Jester?” he asks. They had been traveling together when they first met—the three of them should at least be together.

               “Who?” Beau frowns.

               “Fjord—a half orc sailor and a blue tiefling?” Caleb tries again.

               “Oh, those guys from the Menagerie Coast? I mean, they were cool I guess, but they had plans and I…do better alone,” Beau shrugs, looking away for a moment, shadows crossing her face. She glances back at Caleb, cocking her head to one side. “Why do you care? Does he want them for some reason? Is there a payday there?”

               “No, I just…no.” Caleb sighs. He straightens his back and looks her in the eye. “Don’t let something like that happen again. He’s watching.”

               Beau’s confident smirk returns.

               “You’ve got a weird way of delivering messages, you know that?” she says. “Tell him to keep his eyes on me. I won’t mess up again.”

               Beau nods at Magnus and takes off down the streets, disappearing into the night. Caleb rubs his collarbone and watches her go. A small seed of doubt settles in his heart. He remembers his long talks with Beau as Nott slept curled at his side—the way they kept each other determined to rescue their friends. He remembers her delight as he handed her Frumpkin, in one ounce owl form, how she’d carefully stroked his small owl feathers. There was no trace of that warmth in Beauregard the Mercenary.

               “So…what’d you learn? Are you surprised how violent she is?” Magnus asks, sauntering up to Caleb.

               “Oh, no, she was like that in the old timeline. She’s just fine. We all did work for the Gentleman, after all. That’s not bad—she seems to be doing all right for herself,” Caleb says firmly. “Honestly, I would have expected a loose Beauregard to be in prison.”

               “That’s one,” Vax says. “Let’s move on.”

               “She couldn’t see you,” Caleb remarks idly.

               “We didn’t want her to,” Kravitz says, without further explanation. He opens another door.

               “Neat trick,” Caleb says, stepping through. This time, it takes him a moment to recognize where he is.

               “You mentioned prison. Beau may be free, but there are others you weren’t around to assist,” Vax says, nodding at the building in front of them. Caleb searches the duality of his memories. The jailhouse at Trostenwald. The last time they’d been here, they’d paid for Gustav’s freedom.

               “Who is here?” He asks.

               “You had the evidence, right? Proving that a fiend was responsible for what happened the circus? How many people did you prove innocent?” Magnus asks in return.

               “I don’t…remember,” Caleb says. At the time, it didn’t seem too important. His biggest concern was his new companions. And he hadn’t even been so sure about them at the time. Though to be fair, there hadn’t been much he was sure about in that other life.

               “Well? Go find out,” Vax says.

               “Young reapers are so impatient,” Kravitz murmurs quietly.

               “What did you just say?” Vax narrows his eyes.

               Caleb looks at the building. He has no connection to this town in this timeline. The people here don’t know him. He did them no favors. Why would they let him in to talk to a person he can’t even name?

               Shaking his head, Caleb walks into the building. Magnus follows, leaving the two reapers—now softly arguing—outside.

               As he remembers, two crownsguard stand at attention just inside the doors. Caleb holds his head high, throwing his chest out so his robes are easier to notice.

               “Excuse me gentlemen. My name is Professor Caleb Widogast, and I am here on behalf of the Hall of Erudition in Zadash, Soltryce Academy by extension,” Caleb begins.

               The crownsguard look at each other. One nods and disappears down the hallway.

               “One moment, Professor. She’s been expecting you,” the other says. “You’re here about the circus performer, right?”

               Caleb blinks, but tries to hide the surprise from his face.

               “Thank you,” he says instead, giving an austere nod.

               A few awkward minutes pass before the crownsguard returns with the Lawmaster.

               “it’s about time you showed up,” she snaps. “The Cobalt Soul was far more prompt.”

               “I’m a busy man. Shall we get down to business?” Caleb says, schooling his voice to boredom.

               “He with you?” the Lawmaster nods behind Caleb. He glances over his shoulder at Magnus.

               “Yes, this is my bodyguard. If I’m going to be visiting unsavory places like this…” Caleb trails off. The Lawmaster stiffens at the implication that something would happen to him under her watch, but she nods.

               “Very well. Follow me,” the Lawmaster says.

They follow the Lawmaster down past the guards. Caleb has a weird sense of dejavu. He’s been here, but he’s never _been here_. It was another world, another life. None of this feels real. He wonders if he’ll wake up, his head down on the table in his breakfast nook, Frumpkin butting his soft orange head against his face.

               Somehow, he knows that’s not going to happen.

               Instead of Gustav alone in his cell, most of the circus performers are gathered into two cells. A third cell stands empty, a large canvas cloth covering the outer wall.

               “This is Professor Widogast from the Soltryce Academy. Play nice and answer his questions, now. No tricks…he’s a wizard,” the lawmaster says.

               The circus folks part and Gustav steps forward. He sighs deeply and looks up at Caleb. The look in his eyes is tired and pained, but not unkind.

               “I suppose you’re here because of Yasha, aren’t you?” Gustav says quietly.

               Caleb starts slightly, but nods, glancing at Magnus.

               “Yes, please tell me about Yasha,” he says.

               Gustav sighs again and shakes his head.

               “I tried to bargain for her freedom back when this all started. None of this was her fault and I tried to tell them that she’s never done well locked up. Part of our arrangement was that she could come and go as she needed,” he says. “Not that it’s her fault, what happened. She serves a jealous master. They have a very strict arrangement. He calls and if she doesn’t go, he takes her. I’ve seen it before, and everyone saw it that day.” Gustav points. Caleb and Magnus turn to look at the canvas-covered wall.

               “You’re saying someone…broke her out?” Magus asks.

               “Do you remember that large storm? It raged at impossible strength for three days, getting worse and worse,” Gustav says. Magnus looks curiously at Caleb, who nods.

               “It did not reach Zadash, but we received word. It was not a natural storm. Many weather mages have been working to discover its origins,” he says, partially to Magnus. “You’re telling me that was Yasha…or…or the one she serves?”

               Gustav nods. Caleb’s eyebrows raise and he lets out a low whistle. That’s quite a power. The weather mages at the Hall canceled classes to research the phenomenon. None of them had heard of a magical storm being sustained for so long and still continuing to gather strength.

               “Yasha’s disappearances are always heralded by thunderstorms. Always. It’s his call—him who she serves. When that storm started up, she began to get nervous. She asked me to try again to bargain for her freedom. We could hear the storm howling through the town. Yasha was afraid. She said someone— _he_ was looking for her. That he was angry she wasn’t answering. That third day, the heavens opened up over us. Hail and rain beat at the walls, moving until it found her cell. The thunder was deafening. It shook the ground. Then something struck the wall and we heard stone crumble. There was a blinding flash of lightning. When we could see again, Yasha was gone. Them what was in the cell with her were left behind. Just Yasha was taken,” Gustav says.

               “That’s…quite a story,” Caleb says. He remembers something…Yasha picking up a medallion with a symbol on it in a dark, wet cave. The Storm Lord.

               “It _is_ quite a story. I want to know who it is who did this!” the Lawmaster says. She marches into the empty cell and pulls back the canvas. The edges of the hole in the wall are blackened. Caleb frowns and looks back to Gustav.

               “Who do you think did this?” he asks, genuinely curious.

               Gustav laughs.

               “Can’t you guess, scholar? The lord of storms himself,” he says. “Not an empire approved deity, but I dare you to say he isn’t one after seeing that.” He gestures toward the wall.

               Caleb nods. This makes sense. The Yasha he remembers came and went on the heels of storms. He’d never given it much thought—Mollymauk had said early on that it was in her nature. No other explanation had been needed. She seemed to know when she should turn back up.

               Wait. Caleb’s head snaps up and he quickly searches the faces in both cells. _He_ should be here, but he’s not. 

               “And Mollymauk—did he go with her?” Caleb asks. Gustav frowns and leans forward.

               “Mollymauk? He was never arrested. What do you know of him?” he asks.

               Caleb thinks quickly.

               “I had looked into the case of the oddity occurring at your circus had originally happened. I must have been misinformed as to which listed members of the circus had been placed under arrest,” he says. “My apologies.”

               Gustav snorts.

               “Anyone who could be found was arrested, scholar. Mollymauk vanished and never gave them the chance,” he says, leaning back and shaking his head. “Don’t know if I want to kill that boy or kiss him if I ever see him again.”

               Caleb nods absently.

               “Thank you for your time,” he says. “I think that will be all.”

               The Lawmaster leads them back toward the front of the building.

               “So? What do you recommend? We can’t have people claiming to be storm lords breaking prisoners out of our cells,” she says.

               Caleb sighs, his mind already at work on other things.

               “I will need to review my notes and conduct further research. Expect to hear from me within a week’s time,” he says, giving his usual answer for tasks he couldn’t currently be bothered with.

               The Lawmaster stops them in the middle of the hallway, grabbing Caleb’s arm.

               “I waited long enough for someone from your school to arrive. I expect you to fix my problem!” she hisses. Caleb stares at her, momentarily taken aback. It’s Magnus who answers, raising to his full height and calmly placing one large hand over the Lawmaster’s.

               “I believe Professor Widogast said you would get your solution when he’s ready to give it. I think you should thank him and let him go on his way,” he says firmly.

               The Lawmaster looks from Caleb to Magnus, then allows Magnus to remove her hand from Caleb’s arm.

               “Thank you for looking into this for us,” she says.

               “There you go,” Magnus nods. He places a hand on Caleb’s back, gently directing him outside. Caleb is too shocked to protest.

               “You have no reason to protect me,” he says as they walk back out into the chilly night. “After all, aren’t you here to accuse me of stealing your Grand Relic?”

               “Yeah, but I know enough about this thing to know that choosing to use it doesn’t make you a bad guy. Actually, if you think about it, it might make you a pretty good guy,” Magnus says.

               Caleb looks up at Magnus, who gives him a grin and a shrug.

               Kravitz and Vax seem to have sorted out their differences.

               “Well?” Kravitz says.

               “None of my party members were actually present,” Caleb says. “Why didn’t you take me directly to Yasha?”

               “We couldn’t. No one can find her. The Storm Lord won’t let anyone touch her right now,” Vax says. “She was taken.”

               Caleb pauses. Another drop of uncertainty slides down his spine, but he shakes his head. She’s always being called away. How is this any different? But he fixes Vax with a glare.

               “But I did learn that a friend who had fallen lives. Mollymauk is alive and well in this world,” Caleb says. “He was never forced to fight to protect Beauregard and rescue Yasha, Fjord, and Jester. Molly lives. That is worth something.”

               “To who?” Vax raises his eyebrows. “His circus family? The one in that prison? The Mighty Nein, who never met him? To Yasha, who was taken away by her patron? Who did you give Mollymoauk bck to?”

               Vax opens a shadowed door and gestures. Jaw set, Caleb walks through the door. He finds himself walking into a large, drafty pub with shadowed booths. Caleb scans the place quickly. There.

               Mollymauk is lounging in a large corner booth, all on his own. Though a tankard sits in front of him, the tiefling is more intent on shuffling his tarot cards. The sight warms Caleb. This is one visit he does not mind making.

               “Wait here,” he says to his otherworldly companions before making his way to the booth. 

               “Hallo,” Caleb says. “Do you mind if I join you for a moment?”    

               Molly looks up, his face guarded. He frowns at Caleb for a moment, then shrugs, letting his face melt into a warm smile.

               “Be my guest,” he says, moving his boots off the bench across from him so Caleb can slide into the booth.

               “Let me guess, you’re here for a reading?” Molly asks, tilting his cards out to Caleb.

               Caleb shakes his head. That part of him that feels like a dream can’t stop staring. One failure, completely reversed.

               “Nein, but thank you,” Caleb says. Molly laughs. It’s a welcome sound.

               “Of course not. You studious folk don’t believe in my kind of magic, do you?” he says.

               “Not as such,” Caleb admits.

               “So if you don’t want a reading, why are you here?” Molly asks, tilting his head. The chains and baubles hanging from his horns glitter in the dim light. Caleb had forgotten how much jewelry the tiefling wore.

               “You just reminded me of an old friend,” Caleb says. “I thought I’d say hello.”

               Molly tenses suddenly, his fingers stopping mid-shuffle.

               “You’re with them, then? Is it starting now?” he asks. He scans the room suddenly, as if expecting someone distasteful to materialize from the shadows. 

               Caleb frowns.

               “I don’t understand,” he says hesitantly.

               Molly narrows his eyes at Caleb for a moment, leaning forward with the intensity of his scrutiny. Then he leans back, but a measure of ease is gone.

               “Sorry…I thought you were…I’ve been running into ghosts from another life,” he says. “I’m actually waiting for them here, oddly enough.”

               “A bad situation?” Caleb asks. He remembers their first night in the Evening Nip…the tabaxi woman calling him _Lucien_ , and his wide-eyed whisper of horror, _“This is my nightmare.”_ Are those the ghosts he’s referring to?

               “You could say that, yeah,” Molly says.

               “Nicht gut,” Caleb murmurs. “Though you look like a man who can get out of any situation if you put your mind to it.”

               Mollymauk laughs.

               “I do my best,” he says. He considers Caleb for a moment, then draws a card from his deck. He looks at it without showing it to Caleb, nods, then slides it back into the middle of the deck. He leans back and fixes Caleb with a serious look. It’s not an unfriendly look—it reminds Caleb of the look Molly wore when he felt he needed to help someone on the team come to the right conclusion.

               “Y’know, people talk a lot about second chances. Everybody has something they want to change, that they’d do different if they could only go back. Everyone wants a second chance, right? Everyone wants to be able to go back and fix everything they ever did wrong. Hindsight is perfect, they say,” Molly says.

               “So they say,” Caleb agrees hesitantly.

               “What they don’t tell you, friend, is that there’s no such thing as a clean slate. Our pasts are written in the stars, whether we…whether we remember them or not. Even if you think you left whoever the hell you were behind, life has a funny way of catching back up with you.”

               The look on Molly’s face is grim. Caleb shivers.

               “If…if I were to find a second chance somewhere, I would never look back,” he says. “It would be nothing but…but a bad dream.”

               Molly’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

               “I felt the same way, friend. _I_ certainly didn’t look back,” he says. “But _back_ found me anyway.”

               “I know the feeling,” Caleb says before he can stop himself.

               “I thought you might,” Molly replies. This time the smile does reach his eyes.

               “What makes you say that?” Caleb asks, raising his eyebrows.

               Molly leans forward and taps one black lacquered nail on the top of his tarot deck.

               “I asked nicely. Whether or not you believe in them, the cards are usually right,” he says. He starts to say something else, but he notices something across the room and his face darkens. Caleb turns. The tabaxi woman he remembers has just walked into the pub, followed by several others in dark apparel. They scan the room and settle on Caleb and Molly.

               “Are those your friends?” Caleb asks.

               “Friends is a relative term,” Molly remarks. “But yeah. You’d better get out of here. Believe me when I say you don’t want to get caught up in this. Though it might be too late.”

               “Ja, I think you’re right,” Caleb agrees. He pauses for a moment and lets the new group come closer.

               “Thank you, Herr Tealeaf, for the reading,” Caleb says, raising his voice to ensure that the approaching group hears him. He pulls some coins from his pouch and drops them onto the table.

               “How did—” Molly starts, but gives his head a little shake and pastes a showy smile onto his face. “Anytime, friend.”

               “I am not one of your ghosts, Mollymauk. You’re one of mine,” Caleb says in a low voice, giving him a nod before crossing the room to rejoin Magnus, Vax, and Kravitz, who have planted themselves around a high top table. Magnus looks up from the platter of food he’s devouring.

               “Good talk?” he asks, mouth full.

               “It is good to be able to speak to someone I lost. In…the other world, Mollymauk did not survive,” Caleb says, but even he can hear the doubt in his voice as he glances back at Molly’s table. The tabaxi woman and her group have slid into the booth with him. The discussion looks heated. Every line in the tiefling’s body is tense. _This is my nightmare._

               “You’re beginning to look a little tired,” Vax notes, leaning his head on one hand. “We don’t have to visit everyone, if you’re ready to stop. It’s not as easy as you thought, is it? Seeing people in their new lives—lives without you in them? To see what fate you left them to?”

               Caleb takes a deep breath and meets Vax’s gaze coolly.

               “I am tired,” he admits. “But I am tired because I spent all day conducting and grading final examinations and essays, meeting with students and faculty alike, and had my dinner interrupted by three home invaders, accusing me of destroying a timeline that’s better off.”

               “So you would like to continue on?” Vax says. There’s a slight smile on his face.

               “Yes, I would. After all this is over, I’ll go to bed and start pretending none of this ever happened,” Caleb says.

               “We’ll see,” Vax replies. He stands. “Shall we continue?”

               “After you,” Caleb says.

               “Can I just finish this?” Magnus asks, indicating his platter. “It’s really good.”

               “You may as well. We’ll probably want you at full strength. This next trip might get interesting,” Kravitz says, glancing at Vax, who nods.

               Caleb frowns at the pair of them.

               “What does that mean?” he asks.

               “You keep powerful friends. Did you think they’d be any less powerful without you?” Kravitz asks cryptically.

               Caleb doesn’t respond. He focuses instead on keeping his shoulders from tensing visibly.

               “Okay, let’s go,” Magnus says, standing and flashing a thumbs up.

               “All right.” Vax opens a door and they file through. Caleb glances over his shoulder at Mollymauk one last time. In his mind’s eye, he sees that bright coat fluttering in the falling snow. Life _is_ better than death, isn’t it? Of course it is. Caleb turns away and steps through the door.

               The heat is a surprise. Even in the darkness, it’s warm. Caleb looks around. They’re in the hold of a boat. _Fjord_. This boat is extremely different than the boats from Caleb’s dreams of his old life. It’s shining as though it’s been scrubbed and polished on a regular basis. The crates and barrels are neatly stacked, stamped with the sigil of the Empire.

               “This is good craftsmanship,” Magnus murmurs, looking around.

               “You’re a sailor?” Caleb says.

               “No, but I’m a carpenter,” Magnus replies with a shrug.

               “Hey! Who’s down here?” a voice calls.

               “Shiße,” Caleb hisses as a naval officer of the Crownsguard rounds a corner.

               “Uh. Hi,” Magnus says, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. He leans over to stage-whisper to Caleb. “Are we complying?”

               “Ja, I think that’s best at the moment,” Caleb says, raising his own hands.

               “Guten tag. We don’t want any trouble. I’m only here to visit a friend,” he raises his voice.

               “Yeah? Well you’re going to visit the Captain,” the officer says.

               “We will comply,” Caleb says, looking at Magnus, who nods meekly. Vax and Kravitz are nowhere to be seen.

               Caleb and Magnus allow the officer to lead them up to the captain’s quarters. Though the ship is cleaner and more orderly than the Squall Eater or the Mistake, the layout is roughly similar. Caleb’s palms begin to sweat and his heart beats harder with each step.

               Finally, the officer knocks on a solid wooden door.

               “Sir, I apologize for the interruption, but two stowaways have been located in the hold,” he says.

               The door opens. Another officer nods at the first. Magnus and Caleb are shown into the room. Both officers stand at attention at either side of the door. Caleb’s knees buckle. The officers reach for him, but Magnus grabs his arm first, keeping him steady.

               Two figures are staring at Caleb in surprise, pausing over a large table with maps, papers, and figures laid out across it. Fjord, Caleb expected to see. And there he is, looking at Caleb with a confused, suspicious face. The other figure, Caleb would not have expected in a thousand years. His ever-running mind sputters to a stop for a few moments and all he can do is stare.

               “Caleb?” Astrid asks, breaking the silence. She pushes a few errant strands of short black hair behind her ear. “How did you get aboard this ship? What the hell are you even doing here?”

               “You know these men?” Fjord asks. He’s not using the accent Caleb remembers. He’s using the one he used in the groggy moments after his dreams, the one Caleb could never get him to confess to. But Caleb barely registers this. He can’t take his eyes off Astrid. She’s older, of course, but so much the same as she was the last time they’d seen each other so many years ago.

               “I know one of them. The one in the Soltryce robes. We…grew up together,” Astrid says, not taking her eyes off Caleb. “I’ve never seen the other one.”

               “Hey. I’m uh. I’m Magnus,” Magnus says, nodding politely with a smile. “I’m with him.”

               Astrid gives him a small smile despite herself. Caleb glances at his companion. He gets the impression that people tend to like Magnus, whether they want to or not. Something about him is just…rustically charming. Not in the unsettling way that Caduceus had, but one just gets the feeling that Magnus is a genuinely nice guy. Must be a nice skill to have.

               “Astrid. It’s, uh, it’s been quite some time,” Caleb says, finding his voice at last.

               “Yes, it has,” Astrid says. The smile disappears from her face.

               “How are you?” Caleb asks. The words slip out of his mouth before he means for them to. He hates how soft his voice is when he asks. Neither universe had left him in a good place with Astrid. In the old world, the last time he’d seen her was in fevered glances as she and Eodwulf had held him down so he could be sedated and taken to the asylum. In this one, their budding relationship had ended in flames after Caleb had rejected Archmage Trent Ikithon’s offer to be among his privately trained students. They chose different paths. Astrid had never forgiven him for going for “less than what he could have been.”

               The last argument they had didn’t help things either.

               “I’m great. Wunderbar. Excited to hear why _Professor_ Widogast and his companion here managed to board our ship,” Astrid says, crossing her arms. Her grey eyes are as cold and hard as steel. They’re not the soft, warm thunderheads he remembers.

               “Well, Battlemage Engel,” Caleb says, matching her tone, “I am actually not here for you.  I came to speak to your green friend, there.” Fjord frowns at Caleb.

               “Why me?” he asks. “I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

               Caleb glances around, his mind finally kicking back on, finally coming back to Fjord’s face. He looks guarded but there’s a hungry look in his eyes Caleb recognizes. Dots connect. He feels the ghost of a knife slash across his palm.

               “I know what you’re doing,” he says softly. “How many have you consumed?”

               Fjord’s eyes narrow.

               “I don’t know what you mean,” he says through clenched teeth.

               “Do you not?” Caleb says, fixing him with a stare. “Show me your weapon.”

               “Caleb, this is none of your business,” Astrid snaps. “I don’t know what you’re playing at—”

               Fjord steps forward, holding up a hand to Astrid.

               “You somehow either stowed away on my boat or appeared on it miles and miles out to sea in the middle of nowhere,” he says, voice low. “I’ll show you my weapon, _Professor_.”

               The blue-green light Caleb remembers lights up the room for a moment as Fjord summons a very unfamiliar sword. The original shape of the falchion is still there, but there are unfamiliar elements. Of course, Summer’s Dance is nowhere to be seen. Molly still has that sword. Caleb’s eyes drop to the hilt. Only one orb is affixed in the sword. But is it the orb from the wreckage or Avantika’s? Caleb’s sure Fjord hasn’t found the one in the Gentleman’s hideout.

               Fjord advances further, backing Caleb against the wall. He holds the falchion to Caleb’s throat and leans in. The blade barely nicks Caleb’s skin, droplets of blood running along its edge. Magnus makes a noise of protest but stops as Fjord holds a hand out behind him, an Eldritch Blast forming in his palm. Astrid, too, has slid into a fighting stance, her hands up, slender fingers prepared to cast at a moments’ notice.

               “What do you want?” Fjord asks in a dangerous voice.

               “You are chasing Uk’Toa’s power, are you not?” Caleb asks, meeting his eyes. “Are you prepared for the depth of that power? Do you have any idea what you could possibly release on this world?”

               “That is none of your concern,” Fjord says, though his eyes widen in alarm at the mention of his patron’s name.

               “Is it not? I live in this world. I would rather not see an eldritch horror released into it,” Caleb says mildly.

               “Uk’Toa chose me. He blessed _me_. Archmage Ikithon is going to help me control this gift I’ve been given once I’ve unlocked my full potential. Don’t you realize what that means?” Fjord raises his eyebrows, nodding down to Caleb’s robes. “As an _upstanding_ citizen of the Empire, I’d imagine you could see the benefit of one of our own controlling all the waters of the all the seas. War is brewing, after all. This is the path to the greater good.”

               Caleb feels the blood leave his face. A foolish mistake. He hadn’t recognized until that moment that Fjord is wearing the same uniform as Astrid—the same uniform Caleb had been prepared to wear in another life. Caleb’s mind races. How long has Fjord been under Ikithon? What had the Archmage made him give up? Or had they come to that portion of training yet? Ikithon would have been thrilled to have someone like Fjord dropped on his doorstep. A vessel for a power like Uk’Toa, with no idea how to use it or what to do with it even if he could? That’s Ikithon’s favorite form of “raw talent.”

               “You went to him? You’re one of Ikithon’s monsters now?” Caleb whispers. His eyes slide past Fjord’s face and land on Astrid. Her face darkens.

               “You still believe that? After all this time?” she says. A deep sadness enters her voice. She had been shocked when they’d fought last and Caleb begged her not to become one of Ikithon’s battlemages—that he knew the Archmage turned promising wizards into monsters. It was that revelation that drove them apart. She didn’t believe him. At the time, he didn’t know how to explain the feeling he had. Now, of course, he remembered how he knew. One monster to another.

               Caleb looks back to Fjord, who is looking between Caleb and Astrid, unsure. Even in his confusion, Caleb recognizes the resolve that had made him follow Fjord to begin with. He’s finding the answers—that’s the coin Ikithon is paying him. Answers about what happened to him and why. Caleb nods to himself. There’s nothing more to see.

               “Magnus, I think we should leave,” he says.

               “You mean—now?” Magnus says.

               “If you don’t mind. I’ve seen what I came to see,” Caleb replies.

               Before Fjord can react, Magnus pulls the smaller man off of Caleb, using his surprise to shove him into Astrid. Both go tumbling to the ground. Caleb quickly casts Hold Person on the pair of them, keeping them pinned to the floor.

               The two naval officers at the door start forward. Magnus pulls an axe from his back and dispatches them quickly, knocking them out with the flat of his blade.

               “Let’s go,” he says, opening the door.

               Caleb wipes the droplets of blood from his throat with his thumb and looks at Astrid, who glares at Caleb, her steely eyes burning with hatred.

               “Yes, Astrid,” Caleb says, switching to Zemnian. “I do believe that Ikithon creates monsters. I was at your parents’ funeral. Where were you?”

               He does not watch to see what emotion passes across her face. He turns and follows Magnus out the door.

               “Quickly…without my being there, the spell will only hold for a short period of time and then we are in a lot trouble,” he says.

               “What was _that_ about?” Magnus asks as they make their way back down to the hold. “Who was that lady? What language were you speaking?”

               Caleb laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

               “An old friend from home,” he says. “Speaking the tongue we were raised on.”

               “I take it you didn’t stay friends?” Magnus says, casually punching another naval officer and opening the door to below the deck.

               “We chose different paths,” Caleb says. At the bottom of the stairs, he looks about.

               “Vax? Kravitz? It’s time to leave. Preferably now,” he says.

               “Pleasant visit?” Kravitz asks, shimmering to visibility and raising an eyebrow.

               “Seriously, we should probably leave. We left two pretty angry battlemages on the floor upstairs,” Magnus says, glancing backward. Already, more officers are running across the deck upstairs.

               “And those guys aren’t happy with us either,” he adds, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

               “You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you?” Vax says, though he sounds more alarmed than snarky. He opens a door and they quickly file through it.

               On the other side, Caleb takes a deep breath, running both hands through his hair. He looks round. They’re in a dark alley. He can still smell the sea, though the smell of alcohol and revelry is more plain to him.

               “Okay,” he says. “What now?”

               “You good?” Magus asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We can take a breather if you want to. That seemed…uh…not fun.”

               “I did not expect to see Astrid again,” Caleb admits. “But nevermind that. We have work to do. I will see this through until the end.”

               “Your resolve is admirable, I’ll give you that,” Vax says, leaning against a wall, arms crossed.

               Caleb doesn’t respond, but walks to the end of the alley to peer out onto the street. He recognizes it, even in the night. Nicodranus. Jester.

               “Jester came home?” He asks, turning back to glance at his interplanar companions.

               “She did,” Kravitz says.

               Another seed of doubt joins the considerable pool that has formed in Caleb’s heart, but he nods and makes his way toward the Lavish Chateau. As usual, his three companions dwindle to one.

               “Hey, between you and me, I’m sorry about all of this,” Magnus says after a few moments. “When I came along, I thought we could y’know…talk it out or something. Not this tour of bad things that happened.”

               Caleb gives him a small smile.

               “I’m a scholar,” he says. “I need proof. Any talking would have led to this”

               “Yeah, I guess It just seems…cruel,” Magnus says, frowning.

               “Believe me when I say that I have endured worse,” Caleb says.

               Magnus gives him a considering look.

               “But this visit, I think you may enjoy.” Caleb says this as they come upon the Lavish Chateau. Magnus looks up at the large inn with a whistle of appreciation.

               “Nice place,” he says.

               “Jester’s mother is a bit of a celebrity,” Caleb says.

               In another world, Caleb had needed a disguise to enter the high dollar inn. Now, he cleans the last of the blood from his neck and simply stands straight. He and Enith go hear musicians and plays all the time. He is welcome in the Tri Spire and all of its comforts. Many, in fact, know his name and face from his work and teaching. This life has been kinder to him. He walks into the inn, Magnus close behind

               “Excuse me, is the Ruby performing tonight?” Caleb asks the man at the front desk.

               “Aye, she is. Soon, in fact. If you can find a seat, you’re welcome to it,” the man says, nodding.

               Caleb leads Magnus into the main room. While it’s fairly full, they manage to secure a small table off to the left side.

               “This will be a treat,” Caleb says to Magnus.

               “Is this for your friend’s mom?” Magnus asks.

               Caleb nods as the main lights dim and magic lights appear, twinkling in blues and violets.

               Just as he remembers, Marion Lavorre, the Ruby of the Sea descends the stairs with more grace than anyone he has ever seen. Her song is different, but just as beautiful as the first time he saw her. Caleb glances at Magnus, who is staring with wide eyes at the tiefling performer. Caleb smiles, remembering their experience with her. He pulls some coin from his pouch and lays it on the edge of the table. As Marion passes their table in thanks, Caleb beckons for her to lean in. Humoring him, Marion leans toward him slightly.

               “I would like to see the Little Sapphire,” he murmurs.

               Marion is well trained enough to catch her reaction—it’s just a minute raise of the eyebrows. But it’s enough. Marion taps the table, and for just a moment, shimmering letters appear.

               _We will speak after the show_.

               Magnus looks at Caleb. Caleb holds a finger to his lips and nods.

               The song ends. Marion makes her rounds once more, graciously thanking her patrons. She flirts and chats with each in turn. Finally she returns to Caleb’s table. Her face hardens slightly as she looks at Caleb.

               “Come with me,” She says.

               Caleb and Magnus stand and follow Marion upstairs.  A steward bearing a contract meets them at the top of the stairs, but Marion waves him away.

               “This is not that kind of visit, thank you,” she says. “At least, it had better not be.”

               “Nein, that is not why we are here,” Caleb says.

               Marion nods, relaxing a fraction. She leads them to her parlor—the same parlor in which Caleb and the Nein had originally spoken to her.

               Once seated in a high backed chair, every inch a queen holding court, the Ruby of the Sea fixes Caleb and Magnus with a hard look.

               “What do you know of the Little Sapphire?” she asks.

               “Is she here?” Caleb asks in return. “I’m…a friend.”

               Marion’s eyes narrow.

               “When my daughter returned from her time abroad, she had no friends. The ones she traveled with abandoned her, so she came home. She said she doesn’t want to travel anymore. She no longer tries to leave her room to go outside or play pranks. The light is dimmed in my little Sapphire’s eyes. Are you responsible for whatever happened to her?” she asks, her sultry voice icy.

               Caleb doesn’t answer. In his mind’s eye, he sees Jester and Nott planning mischief and laughing together. He sees Beau and Jester deep in conversation about some book they’ve been reading. He sees her sneaking smiles at Fjord and braiding flowers into Yasha’s hair. He remembers how hard she pushed him to dance with her, and how she’d tucked him into bed afterward. How she took care of Caduceus after his faith had fallen. How she took care of all of them.

               None of that happened in this world. Caleb thinks of Beau’s hard face as she tells him she works better alone. Their being alone isn’t _his fault_ , is it?

               “No, ma’am,” Magnus is saying. “Can we…talk to your daughter?”

               Marion looks at him, then back to Caleb.

               “If…I can do anything to help, I will,” Caleb says quietly. For several long moments, Marion studies his face. Caleb’s palms begin to sweat uncomfortably as he feels her reading more than just his words. Finally, she nods.

               “For whatever reason, I believe you,” she says. “But I will be listening carefully. I will not see my Jester hurt again.”

               They follow Marion to a simple wooden door. Marion knocks gently.

               “Jester my love? It’s Mama,” she calls.

               After a moment, the door opens. Jester peers out the door at her mother, then she sees Caleb and Magnus. She pulls back, concern in her violet eyes. The movement in itself is enough to catch Caleb’s breath. It’s not right. Jester isn’t timid like this.

               “Who are your friends, Mama?” Jester asks. Her voice sounds muted somehow.

               “They’re visitors for you. Can they come in and speak to you?” Marion asks. Jester stares at her in confusion, but she looks at Caleb again and nods. Marion steps away from the door and lets Caleb and Magnus enter.

               “You’re wearing robes from the Soltryce Academy,” Jester says, pointing at Caleb. “Are you from them?”

               “I…am a professor at the Hall of Erudition,” Caleb says.

               “What do you teach?” Jester asks, sitting down on a couch and indicating a pair of chairs for Magnus and Caleb, who both sit obligingly.

               “Oh, I teach many things. Most of my work has been in evocation and transmutation,” he says. “I teach many basic spellcasting classes as well, which aren’t as singly focused.”

               “I bet that’s fun,” Jester says. Her tone is polite and full of false enthusiasm. Caleb has heard this voice, in the other world. She used this voice for several days after the Iron Shepherds. She asked many questions about everything that had happened to her friends, feigning interest so they wouldn’t think to ask about her.

               “I enjoy teaching,” Caleb says honestly. “You recognized my robes—did you study at Soltryce?”

               “I tried. I…went there with a friend. We both wanted to learn how to use our magic better. They accepted him but turned me away. My magic wasn’t good enough or something. They were only interested in Fjord and his stupid blessing of his sea god or whatever,” Jester says, violet eyes glinting.

               Of course. Ikithon would have no interest in Jester’s trickster magic. Not to mention, she would have been a distraction for Fjord. She had always been good at talking sense into him. If she had any doubts, Ikithon would have known them.  

               “And your friend—Fjord, you said? He didn’t leave with you?” Caleb asks, knowing the answer already.

               “Learning about his blessing was more important to him than me,” Jester says, looking down. “I told him I had a bad feeling about that Archmage’s interest in his powers, but he said I was just being jealous since I wasn’t accepted. He said I knew what this meant to him. So he stayed and I left.”

               “I’m sorry to hear that,” Caleb says gently. _You’re sweet on him?_ He had asked her that question in the other world, what feels like a thousand years previous. Even then, she had been unsure about his feelings. In this world, her heart had been crushed.

               “It’s…well it’s not fine. But it is what it is,” Jester says. “I came home to Mama. She would get lonely here by herself. I think it’s better for me to stay here, in my room.”

               “Wouldn’t it be more fun to see the world?” Caleb asks.

               Jester smiles at her hands, folded in her lap.

               “I thought so, once. I was so excited to go make friends and go on adventures, but no one stayed. I met Fjord and then a girl named Beauregard, but Beau didn’t want to go to the academy with us—she said she’d had enough of school in her lifetime. And Fjord…he didn’t want to stay with me either. Nobody ever did. I tried to travel alone for a while, but it turns out that it’s more lonely to be surrounded by people when you’re by yourself than it is to be in a room alone away from everyone else,” she says, her voice falling to a whisper by the end.

               Caleb can’t breathe. He watches the few tears that sneak out of Jester’s eyes fall onto her hands. Everyone left her alone, left her behind. Caleb searches for something he can do for her, something he can give her. He had never been great at seeing Jester upset. This Jester is no different.

               “Perhaps Soltryce itself was disinterested in your power, but you would be welcome to join my classes at the Hall of Erudition in Zadash. Perhaps you would enjoy taking a class or two?” he says, the offer sounding lame as he gives it. It’s all he has.

               But Jester shakes her head, more tears falling.

               “Most of my power is gone—the Traveler said he would be with me as long as I carried out mischief in his name. When I came home, he stopped talking to me. Then his gifts started to fade. I have a few small tricks from Mama, but a lot of my power is gone now. Gone with him,” she says. “I thought it was wrong to go, but maybe it was wrong to go home, too. I don’t know what I was supposed to do. I don’t know if I can make him come back.”

               A lump in his throat, Caleb leans forward and grabs one of Jester’s hands.

               “Come anyway,” he says. “You can come try and maybe…we can figure it out. If you show up at my school, a seat will be yours. I promise you that.”

               Caleb has no idea how to get the Traveler back for her, but he’ll try. He’s already thinking through books he can check for information on minor dieties and fey spirits. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is the look on Jester’s face as she finally looks up at him. Surprise makes her eyes round, but within them, even with tears still shimmering, is a little bit of hope. Just a small bit.

               “I’ll think about it,” she says.

               “Good,” Caleb says, giving her hand a squeeze before letting go and sitting back again.

               “Is that what you came to tell me?” Jester asks. “That I have a spot at your school?”

               “Yes it is. Every so often we look through those who were rejected from the main campus to see if there are any possible fits at the Hall,” Caleb says. This isn’t true at all, but at this point, there’s no limit to what he would promise Jester.

               “Couldn’t you have sent a letter or something?” Jester asks. There’s more truth to her inquisitiveness now.

               “House calls are more personal,” Magnus says brightly.

               “Do you teach at the school, too?” Jester asks.

               “Me? No, um, I’m not even a magic user. I’m just traveling with the Professor here,” he says.

               “Are you brothers? You have the same hair and you both have blue eyes,” Jester asks curiously, looking between Magnus and Caleb. They look at each other.

               “Not that I am aware of,” Caleb says.

               “Well, your voices are really different, so I guess that makes sense,” Jester says. She takes a deep breath and looks at Caleb.

               “Thank you for coming, Professor,” she says. “I will think about what you said.”

               “I am glad. I hope to see you in Zadash, Miss Lavorre,” Caleb says. He looks at Magnus.

               “Shall we continue on?”

               “Yeah, I think so,” Magnus says. “It was nice to meet you!”

               “It was nice to meet you, too,” Jester gives them a smile, and her face lights up a little bit the way Caleb remembers.

               They stand and Magnus and Caleb walk from the room. Marion gives Caleb a measuring look.

               “You could have told me you were here representing the school,” she says.

               “Did I not?” Caleb asks, feigning surprise. “My mistake. I was trying to be discreet, as I understand knowledge of your daughter could be damaging to your reputation.”

               Marion nods.

               “You have done your homework, then. Thank you for giving my daughter another chance,” she says. “I never meant for her to believe the world was a bad place to be. I hope she chooses to attend your school.”

               “As do I. Thank you for letting us speak with her,” Caleb says.

               Marion shows them the way out.

               As they head back toward the alley, Magnus looks at Caleb with interest.

               “That was a really nice thing you did. Can you really help that girl get back in touch with her Traveler?” he asks.

               “I don’t know…I just had to do something, seeing Jester like that,” Caleb says with a sigh. “In…the other life, she was always so bright and full of life. The Jester in that room was not right. If I am being completely honest, nothing I’ve seen today is right. I did not think things would be like this just because _I_ wasn’t in that inn in Trostenwald.”

               “Things are the way they are for a reason. It took me a really long time to learn that,” Magnus says, his voice growing serious. “Any one small change to the past can make such a huge difference.”

               Caleb nods slowly.

               “But that means I can still make a difference. I can help Jester. And perhaps I can do things to help the others, too. This is not irreparable,” he says thoughtfully. “I have more power here. I can set things right.”  

               “Are you suggesting that you regret some of the effects of what you did to the timeline?” Kravitz asks, walking out from the alley. “To make changes to the way this timeline is set may nullify the wish you were granted.”

               “I don’t want to reclaim my old life,” Caleb says. “I just want to make things better for those that are here. Is that against the rules?”

               “I’d say it’s a fine line at best,” Kravitz says, glancing at Magnus. “But I’m not as familiar with all of the rules of this object.”

               “Besides, there are some things you can’t fix,” Vax adds.

               “There’s always something,” Caleb argues.

               “Not always,” Magnus says softly. Caleb turns to look at him. Usually, it’s the reapers that behave ominously. Magnus is frowning, the concerned look he wore on his way to the Lavish Chateau is back. When Caleb turns back, a door stands in front of him.

               “Not always,” Vax agrees, nodding at the door. The look on his face is pitying.

               With a sinking feeling, Caleb steps through the door.

               It’s cold here. Snow has recently fallen. A few lamps shine on the dark, snowy field. Every so often a lumpy stone pokes out from the snow. It’s a cemetery. The hair on the back of Caleb’s neck stands up. _No,_ his mind whispers.

               “Who?” He says out loud, turning to look at his companions. No one speaks. Magnus looks away.

               Without commanding them to, his legs move him forward. He starts brushing snow from the stones. A few of them have names. Most only have descriptions carved in a messy scrawl. _1 Drow, male, murderer. 1 human, male, thief._

               _No, no, no_.

               Panic rises in Caleb’s chest, setting his heart to a sprint. He knows what he’s looking for but is too afraid to find it. He turns wildly back to his companions. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to see this.

               Silently, Vax walks across the cemetery and puts a hand on top of one of the stones. Caleb follows him on numb legs. His hands shake violently. It takes him a few tries to clear the snow from the stone so he can read what’s carved there. _1 Goblin, female, thief_. No name, but it doesn’t matter. He knows.

               Caleb sinks to his knees, reaching out to keep one hand on the stone marking Nott’s grave. Everything else fades from his realm of knowledge. Everything but this stone and the gaping vortex that is consuming his heart, knowing who lies beneath the stone. Great sobs wrack his body, threatening to tear him apart. This was not a future he had predicted. She was supposed to be better without him leading her around and manipulating her. She was supposed to be happier. She’s the better one, always looking out for their friends and thinking of them before herself. Nott is asshole-adjacent, better than Caleb could ever be. She can’t be…

               “Do you recognize this cemetery? You weren’t there to help her escape that jail cell, Caleb,” Vax says quietly. “She didn’t have the ability to escape on her own. She was hung…less for the bottle of wine she took and more for being a goblin. This cemetery is behind that prison. Without you, this is where Nott the Brave’s story ended.”

               Caleb doesn’t respond. He can’t. What words can he speak when his first and only true friend is buried unceremoniously in a nameless grave outside a prison cell he should have shared?  Never again will she pick pockets for useless things like buttons or spectacles, or useful things like food or healing potions. Never again will she tell an awful joke while casting her hideous laughter spell. Never again will one of her messages whisper in his ear, always ending with a reminder that he can reply. Never again will she hop up into his arms or sleep curled in the bend of his legs. Never again will she comb his hair or kiss his cheek. Never, never, never. There are so many nevers. He can’t stop them. The memories flooding his mind. He sees her wide, toothy grin, her bright eyes sparkling with the excitement of the new book or scroll she just found for him. He sees her long, deft fingers nimbly making exploding arrows and mixing acid for their next adventure.

               She saved his life over and over and over again, sometimes in ways she didn’t even know about. How many times had he looked up from near death to see her tired, smiling face, an empty healing potion bottle in her hand? How many nights had he woken in a cold sweat to find her nestled against him, her deep breathing calming his nightmares? Nott was always there for him. And in one selfish moment, Caleb left her alone to die.

               “I’m sorry,” he whispers finally. His voice surprises him—it comes out hoarse and broken. No matter. He strokes the cruel, bland description on the cold gravestone. “I’m so sorry, Nott. You deserved so much better.”

               “She _had_ better,” Vax says in a gentle but firm voice, kneeling in the snow to get on Caleb’s eye level. “You gave her a better life—and not just for saving her life here. You gave her friends, a family, and a chance to do and be more than she ever thought she could. In this timeline, she died thinking that descriptor on her headstone was all there was to her life. But before, she knew she was so much more than that, and that’s because of you.”

               “How do you know all of that?” Caleb asks, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I thought she would be better without my dragging her into battles and places she didn’t want to be. Without my charming her and forcing her into situations. Without…” He trails off, bowing his head, shuddering. _Without me_.

               “It I who came to claim her and saw the duality of her life, clearer than any of the others we had seen in the Raven Queen’s realm. It was she who led me to you, and to solve the mystery of this timeline,” Vax says. “It was she who could save you again.” Caleb’s head snaps up, mouth open. _Over and over again_. His keen memory sees her shaking her head, a small smile on her face even through the grief in her eyes. _“It’s because I love them.”_

               Caleb stands, holding one hand out toward the headstone. The air around his hand grows hot, his skin crackling. Vax stands and backs away in alarm just before a stream of fire pounds the face of the stone, cleansing it. Caleb closes his eyes, controlling the magic with his mind’s eye. He feels the heat on his arms and face, drying the trails of tears down his cheeks. The fire still feels good, after everything. When he opens his eyes, smoke curls up from the smooth, polished stone. The thoughtless descriptor is gone. Now, the stone reads HERE LIES NOTT, THE BRAVEST OF US ALL in glowing letters that already start to fade as they cool. The grief, too, is seared, in a way. He feels hollow now, empty. It’s a horrible, familiar feeling, but manageable.

               A warm hand comes down on Caleb’s shoulder.

               “I’m sorry,” Magnus says quietly.

               Caleb doesn’t respond. He tugs a gold button from his collar and kneels back down to place it under the stone.

               “Shall we finish this?” Kravitz says, opening another door. “We’ve only one more stop to make.”

               Caleb touches his fingers to his lips, then to the stone. He stands and walks through the door.

               The sight of more headstones stops Caleb in his tracks for a moment. Magnus bumps into his shoulder.

               “Oof,” he says. “Sorry.”

               Caleb stares in horror for a few more moments before he recognizes the wild overgrowth in this graveyard. As he breathes a small sigh of relief, the door of the small temple across the way opens. The familiar form of Caduceus Clay steps outside. He looks at Caleb, then his eyes slide behind him and widen slightly.

               “Oh. Are you here for me?” he asks.

               “Not today, friend. I have other business,” Vax says.

               “Ah. I’ll just grab some more cups, then,” Caduceus says with a nod.

               “He can see you?” Magnus asks, turning to Vax.

               “Though we serve different deities, our responsibilities are very similar,” Vax explains. “Kravitz and I care for the dead on the Astral plane, and Caduceus and those like him care for them here. We have an understanding.”

               “Neat,” Magnus replies.

               A few moments pass. Just as the first time they met, Caduceus reappears with a teapot in his hand and a stack of teacups cradled in his arm. Caleb realizes that he’s carrying them in one arm so he can lean on his staff, as if he needs it for support. As he draws nearer, Caleb sees that he’s paler somehow, with dark circles under his eyes.

               “Here, let me help,” Magnus says, rushing forward and taking the stack of cups.

               “Oh, thank you. That’s nice of you,” Caduceus says. They set up around the same small table where Caleb had first spoken to Caduceus. Him and Beau…and Nott. Grief had been present that day, too. Fjord, Yasha, and Jester had been captured and Molly had just been killed.

               “Please, sit,” Caduceus says. The two humans and two reapers oblige.

               Caduceus takes a long moment to fill each cup, gazing at its owner as he does. When he comes to Caleb, he nods, as if reaching some conclusion. Caleb looks down into the cup. Tea made from the dead. More death.

               “When people come to me, it’s usually due to tragedy,” he says. “So please, what can I do for you? How may I ease your pain?”

               Caleb looks up from the teacup. Caduceus is watching him.

               “At what price?” Caleb asks finally. His voice is tired. He’s tired.

               “What do you mean?” Caduceus asks curiously.

               “I thought I could ease the pain myself. I thought I could fix it. I thought I could make things better. And they did seem better. I was sure this was the answer to everything and yet as the fates would have it, it’s not better. It’s just that everyone else is paying the price for me,” Caleb says. “Tell me, Caduceus Clay, what sum do you add to this bill?”

               Caduceus frowns.

               “I don’t understand,” he says.

               Caleb knows he isn’t making sense. This Caduceus would have no idea who he is or who any of the Nein are. None of the things Caleb has seen this night will make any sense, even if Caleb tries to explain it. But he can’t stop himself. Everything he’s seen, every doubt he’s felt, every small twinge of regret rises to the surface of his mind.

               “Beauregard is a heartless mercenary. Yasha was taken by her god. Mollymauk is back in the hands of a bloodhunter cult for whatever sinister purposes they’d had planned. Fjord is going to raise an eldritch monster with my ex-girlfriend at the instruction of the very man I wanted to escape. Jester has isolated herself from the world and lost her faith and her joy. And Nott—” Caleb hits a wall. He can’t say it. He shakes his head and pushes on. “So then. What became of you? What part of my price do you share? What horror am I here to witness?”

               “Caleb, enough,” Vax says. “That’s not fair.”

               “It’s all right, Raven Queen’s Champion,” Caduceus says.

               “Er, Vax,” Vax says, wincing at the title. Caduceus nods, with a smile.

               “Vax, then. It’s okay. This is grief. I see it a lot in my line of work,” he says. He turns back to Caleb. “Will you take a walk with me?”

               Caleb sighs and stands. Caduceus leads him deeper into the graveyard, through the wild plants. Again, Caleb notices how he relies on the staff in his hand. His breath is shorter than it should be as well.

               “Are you all right? You seem to be ill,” he asks quietly. “I am sorry for…before.”

               “It’s all right,” Caduceus smiles at him. “And…I don’t know, to tell you the truth. My home is sick. The blight—whatever it is—is getting to it. I think…it might be getting to me, too. My family left one by one to find a cure. Hopefully they return home soon.”

               Caleb nods slowly. So this is the price. The dots connect in his mind, completing the picture. Since he didn’t come get Caduceus out of the graveyard to help them rescue their friends, he continued being exposed to the illness of his home. Was he already sick in the other timeline?  He certainly wasn’t like this. Perhaps they got him out of the blight just in time.

               “I’m sorry,” he says again.

               “You seem to be the kind of person to blame himself for everything that goes wrong,” Caduceus says.

               Caleb doesn’t reply for several moments.

               “If you could choose to change one mistake so it never happened, what would you be willing to pay?” he asks.

               Caduceus thinks, pausing to check the leaves of a specific plant.

               “I don’t think I would do it,” he says finally. “Mistakes are important.”

               “Even if that mistake cost you the lives of your family?” Caleb says.

               Caduceus straightens and gives Caleb a long, considering look.

               “That might make the choice harder, but I still don’t know if changing what already happened is a good idea,” Caduceus says. “What if changing that thing changed something else?”

               “Yes, it would. Nothing is free. But would it be _worth the cost_?” Caleb presses. “If you made a change and it made your life better and your family could be happy, but maybe others bear the price because, for whatever reason, it was you being there that made things what they were.”

               Caduceus is quiet. He walks down another row of graves and points at a flowering vine.

               “I planted this a long time ago,” he says. “I didn’t know what it was at the time. The seeds were payment for a burial ceremony for a group of travelers whose companion had died far from home. They said it was a flower from the man’s home, so I thought it would be a nice thing to do to let him rest under something from home.”

               Caleb frowns, but look down at the flower.

               “It turns out that it’s poisonous. We can’t use it to make tea or anything else. It’s just poison,” Caduceus continues. “But when I went to remove it, I found that it had settled in and taken root among the other plants. It might hurt me if I try to use it, but it’s helping all the plants around it and making them healthier. If I pulled it up, it would damage and maybe kill these other guys here.” He points to other plants with his staff.

               “And I might not be able to get some of these to grow again, like this guy here, who was struggling before,” Caduceus says with a smile. He turns back to Caleb. “So when you ask me whether I would change a mistake I made—even a bad one, I think about this plant. Yeah, it’s bad for _me_ , but it ended up doing more good for everyone else than I thought it did. Correcting my mistake would cause a lot of damage to the garden, here. And in the end, it flowered in a way I didn’t expect. It looks nice among the other flowers.”

               Caleb nods slowly.

               “I have come to the same conclusion,” he says quietly.

               “It’s a matter of accepting it, isn’t it?” Caduceus asks mildly.

               “Ja,” Caleb agrees. “It’s…a lot.”

               “I don’t know you,” Caduceus says, “But you seem like the kind of man who takes right and wrong very seriously. I think you’ll be able to do the right thing when it comes down to it.”

               “My track record is not great so far,” Caleb admits.

               “Well, there’s still tomorrow.” Caduceus smiles his gentle smile.

               Something settles into place in Caleb’s heart. He takes a deep breath. The cold, damp earthy smell feels cleansing in his lungs.

               “Thank you,” he says to Caduceus. “I think I’m ready to return.”

               Caduceus gives him a nod, still smiling. They walk back to Caleb’s companions in a peaceful silence. The other three look up, pausing in what appears to have been a heated conversation.

               “Will you allow me to say goodbye?” Caleb asks.

               Magnus’s eyebrows go up in surprise. Kravitz and Vax exchange looks, a smile playing at the edge of Vax’s lips.

               “I think that’s reasonable,” he says. He finishes his tea and stands.

               “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Clay,” he says.

               “Anytime,” Caduceus says, leaning on his staff.

               “Yeah, your tea is very good!” Magnus agrees.

               “Thank you. That particular batch was made from a very kind elderly woman. I’m not surprised it turned out delicious. Kind people make better tea,” Caduceus says thoughtfully.

               Magnus’s smile fades.

               “What?” He stammers as Vax opens a door.

               “I’ll explain later,” Kravitz says to him quietly, ushering the paling man through the door.

               Caleb looks at Caduceus’s pale form one last time before stepping through the door. The garden vanishes into darkness.

              

               The two reapers and two men stand on a snowy hill overlooking Caleb’s childhood home. It’s the same hill he, Astrid, and Eodwulf had stood upon many years previous in the original timeline, considering the deed that was about to be done. Caleb’s chest tightens as he looks at the cozy cottage. Smoke rises from the chimney. A warm light spills out the windows. A wreath of pine and holly adorns the front door. He knows his mother is sitting in her chair, working embroidery or sewing buttons on an order. His father is likely shining his boots or simply reading a book by the fire.

               For several minutes, Caleb stands and watches the snow fall.

               “Do you want me to come with you?” Magnus asks gently.

               “I was planning on coming home for the winter festival that takes place here. I’ve had Father’s gift for weeks. Mother’s gift was just delivered today,” Caleb says, pulling the wooden box out of his pocket. Had Pumat 3 really only given it to him that afternoon? It feels like years ago. “I was thinking of bringing a feast. We didn’t have much opportunity for a large feast when I was a boy. Father’s footsoldier wages weren’t much. Mother made some with her sewing but it was a small town. Mending wasn’t needed often and there weren’t too many reasons for new or high quality clothing. I wanted to give them everything they wanted to give me. Even in the other timeline, I thought that if I worked hard, I could give them a better life.”

               Magnus doesn’t respond but watches Caleb carefully. Caleb takes a deep lungful of cold air, then meets the other man’s eyes.

               “The thing that I changed…was this. I was accepted into the same order that Astrid and Fjord were in this world. I was specially trained to be a battlemage for the Empire. It was difficult and painful but I worked hard. As a final test of loyalty, my _mentor_ planted a false memory in my mind. He made me believe my parents were enemies of the Empire, and commanded that I do what must be done. So I…I came home. I spent one last day with my family. I told my parents that I loved them one last time, and then I burnt them alive in this very house,” Caleb says without wavering.

               Magnus’s eyes widen. He starts to speak, but stops. Caleb shakes his head.

               “I knew immediately that it was wrong. My mind shattered moments after setting the flame, but it was too late. I couldn’t save them. My life since then has been in search of a way to make things right. Not for forgiveness…just to fix what I did. They did not deserve what happened to them,” he says.

               “So the Temporal Chalice…” Magnus muses.

               “It was a dream come true. I could change one moment in time, and fix everything. I chose not to become the kind of monster who would murder his own parents without hesitation,” Caleb’s voice breaks. “I was happy here. I never—in the other timeline—I never expected to be happy, even if I fixed what I did. I still lost the love of my life and my two dearest childhood friends. That didn’t change. But I had a family to come home to. I kept myself from becoming a monster. I finished my schooling in the regular academy and continued to study and teach. I loved teaching magic. I loved working on smaller projects in the Hall and doing consulting work for the Pumats. I…things were going well with Enith. I had honestly thought that perhaps I should invite her here with me this year. I was truly happy.”

               “I’m sorry. I really am,” Magnus says, putting a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that the Chalice found its way to you. See, I’m the one who forged it.”

               Caleb looks at him in surprise. The scarred man seems more like the rush-in-and-punch-things type of person, not someone who could make a powerful magic item. Magnus gives him a lopsided grin, as if reading his mind.

               “It’s a long story. About a century long,” he says. “But I came here because this cup is my responsibility. Me and my six companions broke apart a great power and hid it in seven items so it wouldn’t be consumed by a great darkness. But the power needs to be used, so the items corrupted anyone they found. My world was nearly destroyed in the Relic wars, where people fought over and used these items for gain. We had to collect them all and avoid temptation ourselves. I understand the draw that the Chalice has. I stood in the same place you did. So I mean it when I say that I’m sorry for all of this.”

               Caleb takes a deep breath and looks down at the house again. His throat tightens. In a moment of panic, his mind flashes through all of the things he could ask his parents and all of the things he’s wanted to tell them—whether they make sense or not. He could walk down this hill and hug his mother one last time. He could make sure they truly know how much he loves and misses them. He could live out every conversation he’s wished he could have. He doesn’t move.

               “Let’s go home,” he says finally.

               “I thought you wanted to say goodbye,” Magnus says in surprise.

               Caleb shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

               “It’s better if I don’t. It would be like that night all over again. I can’t say goodbye again,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper. He takes a deep, shaky breath and turns back to the reapers.

               “The Chalice is in my office in the Hall of Erudition. I’d…I’d forgotten what it was for and just thought it would be a nice decoration,” he says.

               Kravitz nods and opens the door.

               Caleb walks toward the black portal. He pauses just before stepping through. He wants to look back. More than anything in the universe, he wants to turn around and run down to his parents’ house and bury his face in his mother’s knees, just as he used to as a boy. If he turns now, he’ll lose all his nerve. Was it years ago or only hours that he lived with this weight of loss in his chest? It’s old and familiar, but burns like it’s brand new.

               Caleb steps through the door.

               The lights in his office flicker to life at his entry, just as he’d enchanted them to do when he was given that office. He looks around at his prized books on the shelves, at his journals on the shelf just behind his desk. He looks at the handsomely carved desk where he’s spent so many long hours studying and working and grading. He looks at the worn armchairs where students have come to talk about projects and papers or argue grades or even argue various theories. He smiles at the spot on the rug where Enith had spilled wine the night he had been working into the early hours and she brought him an “office picnic” to ensure that he had a break and ate something. It was the night he’d realized maybe he _could_ fall in love again. This is home. This is false.

               Caleb walks over to one of the shelves and picks up the gold chalice. How long ago had he first cast Identify on it? It feels like a lifetime. It’s lighter than he remembers—lighter than it should be. He holds it out to Magnus.

               “What did it offer you?” he asks curiously.

               Magnus takes the Chalice and smiles down at it, though the smile is sad.

               “It offered me my family back. My wife Julia, who I only got to call “wife” for a few weeks. My mentor and father in law, who took me in when I had nothing and taught me everything I knew. The town I called home, which stands abandoned to this day because of the horrible things that happened—that I could have prevented,” he says softly. “In one moment, I lost everything. The Chalice offered me a chance to fix that.”

               Magnus looks up at Caleb.

               “That’s why I knew you weren’t a bad guy for using the Chalice. I get it…you get to fix that one moment where you lost everything,” he says. “You get to fix what ruined the life you wanted more than anything.”  

               “If it were only me who had to pay the price….I was prepared. But not them,” Caleb says, shaking his head.

               “You choose well. There are thousands of other things that are different now, besides those that affect your friends directly. A fiend still walks free, feeding and creating zombies as it travels. A town was destroyed by gnolls and eventually the gnolls spread to other towns when they had devoured everything. A small bird child died alone in the swamps. The Iron Shepherds continue to walk freely. So many balances have been tilted by the Mighty Nein,” Vax says. “Though mistakes are made, you have done good.”

               Caleb takes a deep breath.

               “What do I need to do?” he asks.

               “We can take it from here, Caleb Widogast,” Kravitz says. “We ask nothing more of you.”

               “Will I…will I remember this?” Caleb asks.

               “Maybe? I’m not exactly sure,” Magnus says.

               “It may fade as a dream. But do try to remember what you learned,” Vax says. “I don’t want to have to do this again.”

               “And…remember that you do have a family. Just…not the one you lost,” Magnus says.

               Caleb opens his mouth to reply, but the room fades to white. For a moment, Caleb is floating in whiteness. In his mind’s eye, he sees his whole life played out to this moment—his graduation and placement at the Hall of Erudition. His first day of teaching. The day he met  Pumat Prime and began working with him. The day he met Enith. His parents’ 30th anniversary party. His father’s 50th birthday. Leora’s proud face, beaming under the green glow of her Tiny Hut. His mother, with silver in her hair. His father’s laugh lines, deepened by many years in the sun, his fiery hair faded with age.  

               _Goodbye,_ he whispers into the void.

              

               The inn is warm and quiet. There’s a fiddler playing familiar hearth-songs of winter and the solstice. Outside, a blizzard howls.

               Caleb sits at a table in the corner, wiping tears from his face. For a moment, he doesn’t know why he’s crying. He blinks, looking around. His eyes fall on the other members of the Nein, and his heart gives a leap. Beauregard pulls her shirt down, grinning as Yasha relents and gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Fjord winces as Jester pulls his bandage a smidge too tight, distracted by whatever story she’s telling him, her eyes sparkling and dreamy. Caduceus gives Caleb a curious look, but settles for giving him a friendly nod. For several moments, Caleb watches Nott as she carefully adds yet another liquor to the mixture in her enchanted flask. She takes an experimental sip and grins widely. She catches Caleb watching her and trots over to him.

               “Anything good?” She asks, nodding at the items scattered across his table.

               Caleb can’t speak for a moment. He opens his arms and gestures. Raising a concerned eyebrow, Nott climbs up onto his lap. She squeaks as he squeezes her tight.

               “Caleb, what’s wrong?” she asks, voice muffled inside his arms. “You’re kind of squishing me.”

               Caleb ignores her complaint for a moment longer, inhaling her scent of alcohol and gunpowder, mixed with a kind of comforting animalish scent, like Frumpkin ought to have. He focuses on her tiny, warm, _living_ form squirming in his arms. It anchors him here, to this world, away from that cold stone. He’s home. Finally, he releases her. She turns to look at him, golden eyes curious and worried. He gives her a smile—and for the first time in a long time, it feels true.  

               “It’s the Longest Night…did you realize that, Nott?” he asks.

               “Really? Already?” Nott’s ears perk up.

               “Wait, did you just say it’s the Longest Night?” Beau asks, joining them at the table. “Wasn’t it just summer, like, yesterday?”

               “Aw no, I didn’t get gifts for anyone,” Jester pouts, flopping her elbows onto the table and her chin in her hands.

               “We can still celebrate, though, right?” Fjord says, putting a hand on Jester’s shoulder.

               “What do people usually do for the Longest Night? I’ve never done it,” Yasha says with interest.

               “I could probably whip up a feast,” Caduceus offers thoughtfully. “If they don’t mind me using their kitchens here.”

               “Yeah! That would be fun!”  Jester exclaims, giving an excited bounce. “We could sing carols and maybe play some games and stay up really late!”

               “This sounds amazing!” Nott agrees, sliding down from Caleb’s lap to take Jester’s hand. Her concern is forgotten.

               The Nein chatter happily, making quick plans for their celebration.

               “I guess I’ll get started on food then,” Caduceus says. His eyes settle on Caleb, who’s watching all of the chaos with a hungry expression. “Mr. Caleb, could you help me out for a minute?”

               Caleb shakes himself out of his thoughts and follows Caduceus.

               “I’m…not much of a chef,” he admits.

               “No, you’re not,” Caduceus agrees lightly. “Mr. Caleb…is everything all right? You seemed to leave us there for a minute.”

               Caleb doesn’t answer for a moment. He looks over his shoulder at the Nein, gathered around the table still, talking and laughing animatedly. For the first time in a long time, warmth fills the howling void in his chest. Maybe tomorrow the darkness will return, and so be it if it does. Tonight, his friends are alive and well, and together. And for just tonight, perhaps, that’s enough.

               “Everything is…good,” Caleb says.  “It’s actually…very good.”

              

              

              

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! This story currently holds the record for the longest one-shot I've ever written. 
> 
> I always lowkey wanted to write a “What would happen if Caleb got the Temporal Chalice” fic, but never really had a good plot. During a recent migraine, I came up with the idea to do it kind of “It’s A Wonderful Life” style, and then wrote 20k+ words in a week and half long writing-fever. I really wanted this done by Christmas so it's a little on the haphazard side--there wasn't a lot of time for all of the normal editing phases. I may eventually take this and turn it into a chaptered piece, spending more time on each visit. I didn't really expect this idea to hit me so hard and become this beast. But for now...it's done. 
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! A very happy Candlenights to you and yours! Feel free to drop me a comment if you like!


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